Hundreds of miles from the elven realm, beyond the borders of civilization, lay the Realm of Doom. A cursed place where mana didn't flow and magic was an exhaustible resource. Here, the forests were dense and dark, the deserts endless, and the mountains rose like stone giants watching over a territory forgotten by the gods. Legends spoke of ancient riches hidden within its lands, relics left behind by the gods themselves who once walked there. But those legends also warned of dangers: monstrous beasts, natural traps, and an atmosphere that drained the life energy of anyone who dared to venture there.
No one in their right mind would live there. However, Kaelion, a white-furred werewolf with pale yellow eyes, was not one to be guided by sanity. He had come for one reason: to challenge Hell itself.
Kaelion stood in a mountainous area, surrounded by sharp rocks and deadly precipices. The air was dry and heavy, and the scorching sun beat down mercilessly. At his feet lay the corpses of a dozen tiger-like beasts, ferocious creatures with razor-like claws and fangs that flashed in the sunlight. Their bodies were mangled, torn by Kaelion 's claws and fangs. Blood stained the ground, forming dark pools that mixed with the desert dust.
But the battle wasn't over. At least a hundred of these beasts surrounded him, snarling and spitting, ready to attack. Kaelion, though wounded, was smiling. His eyes shone with a mixture of ferocity and amusement. To him, this wasn't a fight for survival; it was a game.
"Is that all you have?" he roared defiantly as a beast lunged at him.
Kaelion dodged the attack with supernatural agility, and with a swift movement, sank his claws into the beast's neck, tearing its throat out. The creature fell to the ground, choking on its own blood. But there was no time to celebrate. Two other beasts leaped at him, and Kaelion met them with unbridled fury.
The werewolf moved like a whirlwind, his claws tearing through flesh and bone with each strike. The beasts were fast and strong, but Kaelion was something else. He was a predator at his finest, a being who relished every second of the slaughter. Though wounds piled up on his body—deep cuts on his sides, a claw that had ripped into his shoulder—he seemed immune to the pain.
A beast managed to bite his leg, but Kaelion responded with a roar that shook the air. He grabbed the creature by the neck and lifted it off the ground, smashing its skull against a nearby rock. Blood splattered its white fur, dyeing it red.
"Come on!" he shouted, challenging the remaining beasts. "Eat me if you can!"
The beasts, though ferocious, began to hesitate. Some retreated, growling cautiously. But Kaelion didn't give them the chance to flee. He charged at them, dispatching one after another in a dance of death and destruction.
As the last beast fell, silence returned to the mountains. Kaelion, panting and covered in blood, leaned against a rock. His wounds were deep, and the lack of mana in the air weakened him more than he was willing to admit. But that didn't matter. He had won.
"Pathetic," he muttered, looking at the corpses scattered around him. "They weren't even a challenge."
Though his words were arrogant, I knew the real threat of the Realm of Doom wasn't these beasts. It was the conditions of the place: the lack of mana, the unbearable heat, the natural traps, and, most of all, the even more dangerous creatures that might be lurking.
Kaelion hadn't come here for the riches of the gods. He sought something more: the Lycan Relic, a legendary artifact that, according to legend, granted werewolves unimaginable power. But to find it, he would have to travel deeper into the Realm of Doom, a place that had already taken a heavy toll on his body and energy.
With a grunt, Kaelion stood up and began walking, leaving the bloody battlefield behind. He knew this was just the first of many trials. But that wouldn't stop him. After all, he was Kaelion, the werewolf who defied Hell. And if the Realm of Doom wanted to stop him, it would have to do better than a hundred beasts.
Kaelion was no ordinary werewolf. Among his kind, he was a living legend, a being who inspired both awe and fear. While other werewolves lived in packs, hunted together, and shared a code of honor, Kaelion had chosen the path of the lone wolf. To him, the pack was a weakness, a burden that limited his potential. He didn't need allies; he just needed power.
In his full werewolf form, Kaelion stood three meters tall, an imposing figure of muscle and snowy fur. His eyes, a clear, piercing yellow, blazed with a ferocity that chilled the blood of anyone who dared to stare. In his human form, though less physically intimidating, he was still a commanding presence: 1.93 meters tall, with an athletic build and a gaze that challenged anyone to underestimate him.
But what truly set him apart was his mindset. Kaelion didn't fight for survival, honor, or revenge. He fought for the joy of battle, for the thrill of facing powerful opponents and crushing them. He never backed down from a fight until his opponent lay dead at his feet. And if his prey managed to escape, he would pursue it to the ends of the world if necessary. For Kaelion, the hunt wasn't over until his enemy's blood stained the ground.
Kaelion had abandoned his pack years ago, in pursuit of something even he couldn't fully define. He knew it was power, but not the kind of power that came with titles or riches. It was the power to be unstoppable, to be the ultimate predator. His warrior's pride consumed him, and nothing else mattered. Not loyalty, not family, not honor. Only the fight.
This obsession had led him to the Realm of Doom, a place where even the strongest feared to tread. But for Kaelion, it was the perfect training ground. Here, every beast, every trap, every challenge was a chance to test himself. And while the lack of mana weakened him, it only made the battle more fun.
After the massacre in the mountains, Kaelion continued on his way, deeper into the heart of the Realm of Doom. The wounds he had suffered in the battle against the tiger-like beasts were beginning to heal, thanks to his supernatural regeneration, but the lack of mana in the environment slowed the process. Still, he didn't stop. He knew that what he was looking for, the Lycan relic, was nearby.
As he advanced, Kaelion began to notice something strange. Beasts that would normally have attacked him without hesitation now fled from his presence. Even the fiercest creatures, such as sand dragons and shadow predators, avoided his path. It was as if the Realm of Doom itself recognized him as an unstoppable force.
But Kaelion wasn't satisfied. He wanted a fight, a true test of his strength. And soon, he would get it.
Deep within a dark, narrow canyon, Kaelion found what he was looking for: an ancient guardian, a colossal, scorpion-like creature whose carapace gleamed like metal and whose pincers could crush rock with ease. The guardian guarded the entrance to a cavern, and Kaelion knew that within that cavern lay the Lycan relic.
The guard saw him approaching and made a guttural sound, a warning to him to stop. But Kaelion only smiled, showing his sharp fangs.
"Finally, a challenge," he said, transforming into his full werewolf form.
The guardian attacked first, moving with surprising speed for its size. Its pincers closed where Kaelion had been standing a second before, but the werewolf was no longer there. With an impossible leap, Kaelion positioned himself atop the guardian's carapace and sank his claws into the creature, tearing through its natural armor.
The battle was brutal. The guardian was powerful, but Kaelion was relentless. Every blow, every bite, every movement was calculated to inflict maximum damage. Finally, with a roar that echoed throughout the canyon, Kaelion ripped the guardian's head off, leaving its lifeless body on the ground.
Entering the cavern, Kaelion found the Lycan relic : an ancient pendant shaped like a crescent moon, carved from a material that seemed to absorb light. But as he took it, a voice echoed in his mind, an ancient and powerful voice.
'Kaelion,' the voice said. 'You are strong, but the power you seek comes at a price. Are you willing to pay it?'
Kaelion didn't reply. For him, no price was too high. With a defiant gesture, he placed the pendant around his neck and felt a surge of energy course through his body. It was as if the Realm of Doom could no longer weaken him.
Kaelion emerged from the cavern, ready to face whatever came. He knew his quest for power wasn't over, but now he had a new tool. And with the Lycan relic, he was closer than ever to becoming the ultimate predator.
As he walked under the red sky of the Realm of Doom, Kaelion smiled. He knew that sooner or later, someone or something would try to stop him. And when that happened, he would be ready. After all, he was Kaelion, the lone wolf, the warrior who struck fear into even the S-ranks of the human kingdoms. And no one, not gods nor men, would stop him.
As Kaelion walked through the barren desert of the Realm of Doom, a sudden surge of energy stopped him in his tracks. His white fur bristled, and his yellow eyes narrowed, scanning the horizon. It wasn't a common sensation; it was something that immediately put him on guard. Thanks to the Lycan pendant he now wore around his neck, he had been able to sense two powerful energies, fleeting but unmistakable. They were like a roar in the distance, an echo of power that resonated deep within his predatory instinct.
Kaelion transformed into his full werewolf form, his three-meter height casting a towering shadow across the cracked ground. He snarled, baring his sharp fangs, his senses heightened to their peak. These energies weren't from this place; they came from far, far away. And though he only felt them for a moment, he knew immediately their origin: the elven realm.
"What is this?" he murmured, his voice deep and heavy with curiosity. "Does anyone dare to challenge me?"
Kaelion wasn't one to ignore a provocation, real or imagined. To him, that surge of energy was a calling, a challenge he couldn't ignore. He laughed aloud, a deep, resonant sound that broke the desert silence.
"Very well!" he roared, raising his head to the sky. "If they want a fight, I'll give them a fight."
Without further ado, he began walking toward the elven kingdom, his stride firm and determined. It didn't matter that it was hundreds of miles away; Kaelion knew neither fear nor doubt. If anyone was challenging him, he would go and crush them. It was as simple as that.
The journey wouldn't be easy. Between the Realm of Doom and the realm of the elves lay vast plains, dense forests, and treacherous mountains. But Kaelion was no ordinary traveler. He was a predator, and his instinct guided him even in unfamiliar territory.
As he advanced, the beasts that crossed his path fled at the sight of his presence. The Lycan pendant seemed to amplify his aura, causing even the fiercest creatures to avoid him. But Kaelion wasn't interested in them. His mind was on something bigger: the one or two who had emitted that energy.
"Who could it be?" he thought aloud as he made his way through a dark forest. "A powerful elf? A warrior who thinks he can defeat me? It doesn't matter. When I find them, they'll know why my name inspires terror."
After several days of endless travel, Kaelion reached the border of the elven kingdom. The contrast was striking: while the Realm of Doom was a desolate and hostile place, the elven realm was a paradise of lush vegetation and pure air. The trees were tall and majestic, and the sound of streams and forest creatures filled the air.
But Kaelion wasn't there to admire the scenery. With a grunt, he crossed the border, feeling the mana of the place clash with his own energy. Elves were known for their connection to magic, and Kaelion knew this would be hostile territory for someone like him. But that only excited him more.
"Come on, show yourselves," he said, sniffing the air. "Don't keep me waiting."
It wasn't long before the elves noticed his presence. A group of guardians, armed with bows and swords, appeared from the trees, surrounding him. Their faces showed a mixture of surprise and fear at the sight of a three-meter-tall werewolf, covered in scars and wearing a pendant that emanated a strange power.
"Stop, intruder!" one of the elves shouted, pointing his bow at Kaelion. "This is the elven realm. You don't belong here."
Kaelion smiled, showing his fangs.
"I didn't come to ask permission," he replied, his voice thick with threat. "I came to answer a summons. Which of you was brave enough to challenge me?"
The elves exchanged confused glances, but had no time to respond. Kaelion moved with impossible speed, striking down two guardians before they could react. The others fired their arrows, but Kaelion dodged them easily, advancing on them like a storm of fury and claws.
As the guardians fell one by one, Kaelion sensed something—someone approaching, someone powerful. Kaelion stopped attacking and braced himself, knowing the true challenge was yet to come.
From between the trees emerged a figure: a tall, slender elf with silver hair and green eyes that shone with a magical intensity. It was Idril, the same one who had humiliated Leon. Frostvein in Noxhaven. In his hands, wind blades were already beginning to form.
"So it's you," Idril said, her voice calm but charged with power. "The werewolf who thinks he can challenge the elves."
Kaelion smiled, showing his fangs.
"Finally, someone worth it," he roared. "This is going to be fun."
The two powerful beings stared at each other, sizing each other up. Kaelion, with his brute strength and relentless ferocity, against Idril, with her elven magic and deadly precision. The forest seemed to hold its breath, as if it knew an epic battle was about to begin.
"When I'm done with you," Kaelion said, "I will seek out those who emitted those energies and they will fall before me."
Idril didn't respond. Instead, she launched her attack, and Kaelion lunged toward her, ready for battle.